


Five Times Lockwood Helped his Friends

by CalmIsOverrated



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emphasis on Comfort, Gen, Post last book, They're a Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmIsOverrated/pseuds/CalmIsOverrated
Summary: And the time they all helped him.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 41





	1. Lucy

**Author's Note:**

> Yo I'm sorry if this is a mess. I have 5% and my internet is really bad. I'll fix this up later. My Tumblr is Calm-is-overrated

Lucy was sure that Lockwood saw through her mask of acceptance, he had the uncanny ability to read his teammate's hidden thoughts and emotions. She didn't want to admit it to others, but she was mourning Skull. The one that annoyed all of them with its morbid faces and mocked them only to Lucy's ears. She hated to have bonded with the blasted thing and it wasn't likely he would be coming back anytime soon.

Not to mention her childish habit of carrying it around. It was a real human skull, not a stuffed bear, she chastised herself. But... Lucy couldn't throw it away or burn it. What if he came back? What if?

So here she was at midnight sitting in her window seat, the skull in a jar on her lap with not the slightest hint of ghost fog from the type three.

She couldn't sleep. Her mind was a swirling storm of thoughts that wouldn't allow her sleep. Anytime she closed her eyes for a rest she was back at  _ that _ place. The cold seeped into her body and went down to her bones. No matter how many blankets she used. The voices of the dead filled her ears and drowned out everything but her own panicked thoughts.

Lucy eventually gave up attempting to sleep. She made it through the day before she collapsed into bed and passed out for an hour or two. But now she couldn’t rest.

She didn't even hear Lockwood come in her attic room until he sat down across from her. Lucy didn't jump, just looked over, not bothering to hide the melancholy expression on her face. The ghost lamps lining the street illuminated them both. She saw the bags under his eyes and exhaustion on his face.

"Can't sleep?" He asked quietly. Lucy mutley shook her head in response. She tilted her head at him to silently ask if he had the same problem and he responded with a, “Me neither.”

The thing with Lucy and Lockwood was that neither of them had to have a conversation. Simply content to be in each other’s comforting presence because they understood. Lockwood stayed with Lucy, rubbing in circles on the torn pajama knees. The action was soothing and calming for both of them. It reminded them that they were all still here, alive, and they'd keep fighting until it was safe.

"I miss it," Lucy breathed before she could stop herself.

"I know," Lockwood whispered back. Of course he knew.

"It's dumb-"

"No, Luce, it's not," he interrupted. "You bonded with it, and it you. It helped you, and thanks to it we're still alive. It was your friend."

"Do you think he's gone forever?" Lucy asked looking outside and letting her eyes follow the ghost fog as it did its nightly dance through the streets.

"Maybe, you never know though. Its source is still here, bit burnt, but still. If it was here it'd probably tease you for going soft, Luce."

Lucy let out a laugh and sly smile. "Alright Lockwood."

"Only you, Luce." He shook his head with a teasing smile and nudged her with his knee. "Only you could make friends with the undead."

"Not to mention one of the most... What's the word...  _ Challenging _ ghosts ever."

Lockwood laughed and she counted that as a plus and joined in with his contagious laughter. Then a yawn took her by surprise, and Lucy realized just how  _ tired _ she was. Lockwood seemed to stifle his own yawn and patted her knee and stood.

But he didn’t leave the room like she’d thought he would. Lockwood walked over to her bed and grabbed the blanket but came back to the place he’d vacated. He draped it over himself and Lucy, who was seeming to struggle to keep her eyes open. She gave him one of her Carlyle grins and wrapped the edges closer around her shoulders.

The blanket seemed to finally lull her fitful mind and she was asleep before Lockwood was, with the skull loosely held in her lap. For the first time in the weeks post-portal, Lucy wouldn’t wake up with a scream on her lips.

Lockwood, job done, slept just as well. He was glad he could help one of his teammates and set them on the road to recovery and that they would help him just as quickly. Over the course of the next few weeks them comforting each other turned into a bit of a routine and it continued long after either of them needed it.


	2. George

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one in the morning. I should also mention this is part of a fic I wrote sometime in 2018, so I probably write a bit differently now. I'm sorry if it's ooc I'll be trying better.

George was afraid of being alone. Bad things just... Always  _ happened _ when he was alone. He'd been attacked multiple times. He felt like a toddler, but he honestly didn't think the others noticed when he followed behind them closely when they walked through the streets. He twitched at sudden noises outside their home. He also second guessed his work.

_ You're your team's weakest point _ , a growing voice in the back of his mind whispered. It'd been steadily increasing, or maybe George Cubbins had just begun listening to it more, since his last instance weeks ago. He’d second guessed his research. They ended up with a poltergeist and Lucy had almost been the victim that night, if it hadn’t been for Lockwood...

And he was beginning to actually believe voice. Sure he was smart and all, but there were plenty of other smart people who didn’t have nearly as much bad luck as him. Luck like his was going to end up giving wrong information and killing one of his friends.

Then Lockwood announced he was getting more help, hiring a person to help George with research since Lockwood&Co was working on overtime to get the Problem under control and begin forcing it down.

Now that they were quite a popular Agency a few dozen people had decided they had what it took to essentially become interns with pay. Until Lockwood finally took George aside and told him he needed to pack his things and they replaced him, that they didn’t need a liability like him - And George suddenly found it difficult to breathe. It's only a matter of time...

Lockwood had announced that the interviews were tomorrow and to get some good rest. George didn't sleep that night. The next morning was a groggy blur, but he was preparing their customary offering of tea and biscuits to the potential employees, his replacements.

A sharp sting of pain grabbed his attention. George pulled his hand away from the kettle with a yelped curse. Drawing Lockwood's attention, from where he sat at the table doodling on the thinking cloth. The steam from inside the metal kettle had managed to lick his hand and burn him. Then the chain of events that followed happened faster than it was possible to stop. When he flinched away his elbow banged into the metal tray with the waiting cups and biscuits, knocking them down and shattering several of them. From what he could tell from the glass, at least two of the cups were broken beyond repair or use.

_ That's always what happens isn't it. You get so distracted, you're not paying attention then you mess everything up _ , the voice in the back of his mind whispered. For the first time in many years George felt close to frustrated tears, his fingernails digging crescents into his palm, as he stared at his mess.

When a hand carefully placed itself on his arm he jumped. The other hand turned off the kettle and moved his shoulders to turn him around to face a concerned Anthony Lockwood.

"They're just teacups. Easily replaceable, George," Lockwood was studying him with those eyes of his. Trying to figure out what was wrong with his turmoiled friend.

_ Like you _ , it whispered darkly.

George couldn't force himself the brunette's eyes. Too embarrassed to speak. "George," his eyes shot up to meet the searching eyes of their leader. Who'd literally saved all their lives, multiple times, at some point or another.

"What's going on? You've been acting strange all week." Lockwood stared at him expectantly.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," is what George tried to say. Instead he simply said, "I'm sorry."

At that Lockwood's brow furrowed. "For the cups? I got them on discount. It's not a bi-"

"Not the cups. Though, yes, that too."

Lockwood released one of his arms, but George didn't have a chance to panic because his teammate simply led him to the table to sit down. The brunette took George's burned hand and turned it skeptically. "Good news, Cubbins, you'll live." He grabbed some burn cream out of the cabinet, with how much fire, greek or otherwise, Agents dealt with daily, burn cream was a must.

"So, you never answered me. Sorry about what?"

"Just generally." That was vague. Good job, George.

"Generally, meaning?"

"I'm just sorry for messing up all the time!" He angrily waved at the tray of fallen food with his good hand, he turned his glare down to the hand Lockwood was finishing up wrapping.

"It was one time out of hundreds. Though I believe you're talking about something a little more serious than spilt tea," he sat back on his seat patiently.

"It is. I'm literally the weakest member on this team. I'm the one every bad person that comes after us goes for. I'm making mistakes constantly!"

"George-"

"It's true! One of these days I'm going to mess up enough to get one of you hurt or killed."

Lockwood blinked, his cool facade breaking for a moment to allow George to see the sadness creeping into his expression. This was going to be it. He'd tell George to leave and never come back and that would be it.

But it never came. "Oh George. That's... Not true. It's not your fault. Bad people go after you because you're important, part of the glue that holds this chaotic group of people together. Without you we'd all have ended up hurt or far worse by now."

" _ Anyone _ can do what I do, Lockwood."

A look of realization donned on Lockwood's face. "George, whoever we hire today,  _ if  _ we hire someone, they  _ will _ not replace you. They  _ can't _ . We've all been through too much together for some random employee to replace you. They’re only here to do paperwork and sort through cases. "

George blinked back against the stinging in his eyes. His chest felt light. Lighter than it had in weeks. The doubt and worry was still there, but for the first time in a while, that voice stayed silent. Warded away by Lockwood's quiet and confident presence.

"Oh, and, I'll help you get that cleaned up."

"Thanks Lockwood."

"No problem George."


	3. Quill Kipps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is Calm-Is-Overrated so yee, go bug me I’m very bored. I promise the stuff I usually write is a lot longer than this.
> 
> I had wanted to do Holly today but I didn’t get it done on time. Don’t worry tho, Holly is next. If I made any character mistakes in this I will fix them when I get my books back. They got packed away. You can also let me know in the comments lol-

Quill Kipps was getting older. He knew his Talents had been steadily fading every day. By now he considered them gone, unless he were to used those goggles. Unassisted sight was nothing more than memories, an old uniform, and the rapier he carried around on his belt more often than not.

With few new ghosts coming though, work ordering around the younger children wouldn’t last forever. In fact, the specialists were estimating at most a decade of the Problem. Though ghosts would never truly disappear. Not truly. But Quill was an adult now. Not to mention a retired agent, surely he could find work somewhere that wasn’t an agency.

Rejected seemed to be a very common word that was sent back, and maybe a copy pasted apology if he was lucky. And Kipps was at a loss as of now. He hadn’t heard word from a few of the applications he’d sent and the others had been a firm no’s. Once they saw he’d been blacklisted from Fitts it was over before it started, most companies didn’t want anything to do with Fitts after what had happened. So Quill had resorted to going to the library to page through job ads and find whatever company would be desperate enough to overlook that smear on his resume.

“Kipps?”

The named man looked up in surprise to see Lockwood and Lucy standing nearby, he caught a glance of Holly and George a few aisles over. Research, he realized. Then Quill remembered what had brought him to this place and didn’t feel like explaining himself to any of them and he did not have time to be bothered.

He quickly covered the papers in a book someone else had left on the table and cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?” Kipps snipped, he kicked himself internally. Why else would they be here?

“Researching a case,” Lucy said, in a predictably annoyed voice. She was still very easily annoyed by Kipps, and Kipps that fact, very well. He would often take advantage of that and mess with brunette 

Behind her though Lockwood was giving him an odd look. “Lucy, would you and Holly go help George finish the research.”

Lucy turned to him, confused. “But-?” She gave him an odd look but shrugged and walked away. “Fine.”

Lockwood sat himself across from Quill.

“Yes, that seat is open, thanks for asking,” Kipps said. A part of him hoped his unpleasant attitude would shoo Lockwood off and save him the humiliation.

To Quill’s utter annoyance Lockwood pointedly ignored him. “Employment troubles?” Lockwood asked. Kipps just glared, though he knew his embarrassment was giving him away.

“Just seeing what my options are,” he said sharply, not lying per say. And as Quill now knew, his options were very limited.

“I’ve heard some ex-Fitts employees saying they were having a hard time getting hired just because the name was on their resumes.” Lockwood had his piercing gaze set on Quill and it made him rather unsettled. As if the other man was dissecting him and seeing right through him.

Quill scratched the back of his head. “Well, if you’re done bothering me I need to get going.” He started grabbing his stuff, hoping to leave with whatever pride he had left.

“Would you like to work for Lockwood & Company? Officially this time.”

That made him freeze where he was, half standing with his stuff in his hands.“Are you joking?” Quill asked, voice disbelieving. This would be a cruel thing to do to him.

“Nope. See, you need a job, and I need someone to help George sort through cases and go on them.” There seemed to be more there but Kipps didn’t ask.

“I’ll take it,” he said. Maybe saying that he worked for the most famous ghost hunting agency out there would help him get a job once the ghost hunting business stopped working out. “Just don’t tell the others.” Mostly George, he added mentally.

“Oh, but Quill, don’t they deserve to know who their fellow employees are?”

“Absolutely  _ not _ .”

Lockwood laughed, and Kipps had to admit he had an infectious laugh. So that, mixed with the relief he was feeling Kipps couldn’t stop himself from joining in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See it works out rather well for Lockwood. He gets help and Kipps isn’t going to be replacing George anytime soon.


	4. Holly Munro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Hm. Yeah. I rewrote this like twenty million times before eventually settling on this idea iwsjsn. Would you like to see my failed attempts? Eh? Eh? Lol
> 
> -Bangs pots and pans together- LET THEM BE GOOD PLATONIC FRIENDS THAT COMFORT EACH OTHER!!
> 
> When you’ve never been to England before and it shows. I think it's cold there and they like tea. And that's like the max that my American understanding of England goes.

Lockwood & Co had survived another close call with death. They’d all made it out, chatting happily and sipping tea as they packed up their belongings. Holly stayed quiet, consumed in her thoughts. It was cold, even drinking lukewarm tea from the thermos didn’t even help to make a dent in the way she felt.

The owner of the house was happy with the job Lockwood & Co had done and offered them some cookies she had made for her grandkids. The way home was spent in silence as they made their way, sore and tired, somewhere they could catch one of the early morning cabs that came to assist the agents.

Usually after a case like they’d had Holly would fall asleep in one of the spare beds Lockwood kept for when she or Kipps were too tired to go home. The others went off to their rooms to get a couple hours before noon and they would come down to eat and drink.

Holly followed suit but she spent the time tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable as the memories of their most recent case bombarded her. And how everything had gone wrong.

It started with them knowing exactly what they were getting into. A poltergeist. An aggressive one by the looks of it. The owner- Mrs. Trew- of the house inherited it after her mother passed away. She planned to fix up the house and then sell it. When Mrs. Trew had gone in, she knew something was wrong but just waved it away due to the fact it was empty and hauntingly quiet. Then, something had attacked her. She’d earned herself a large amount of bruises when she took a tumble down the stairs after very clearly feeling someone push her. She thankfully hadn’t injured her neck and came out rather lucky. Trew had left immediately and phoned Lockwood & Co when she had calmed down.

The research also gave very good evidence that this was the ghost of the owner before Mrs. Trew’s late mother, a temperamental man who had taken his anger out on anyone that came close to him. He’d fallen down the stairs late in the year and no one had even noticed until a few months later. Apparently Mrs. Trew’s mother had planned to fix the place up before an untimely- but not connected to the house- heart attack killed her.

It was shockingly easy to get the information they needed on the house. Which should have been Holly’s hint that this was going to go terribly wrong. It hadn’t even been Holly who nearly died. It was Lucy and Lockwood, who had been in danger.

They entered the house right before sundown and the owner came to give them the rundown though she refused to step inside. The upstairs was entirely untouched but the bottom floor had been entirely devoid of stuff. Which meant they’d had to go upstairs.

It was quiet and still inside. No sign of anything malevolent or supernatural yet. The temperature was beginning to drop as the sun slowly disappeared from the sky, taking its limited warmth and safety with it. They set up their things on the ground floor and waited.

Then something in the air seemed to shift and the temperature dropped. The hairs on the back of Holly’s neck raised almost painfully. Her team seemed to sense it as well and Lucy and George stopped arguing over some new gadget he’d found mid-sentence and sit up straighter.

_ Slam! _ The sound echoed through the empty house from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Holly guessed it was a door. They were all on their feet in an instant, listening intently. The silence afterwards was almost painful.

After a few moments spent tensely with hands on rapiers, not that they would do much good if this was a true poltergeist. The curve of iron in their belts was a comfort and backup plan. Finally Lockwood broke the silence. “I’d say we should go upstairs. Mrs. Trew stated that the upstairs was untouched even by her mother.”

And with that Lockwood & Co left the relative safety of their iron chains and headed upstairs. The air in the upstairs felt oppressive, Holly knew her friends were feeling it too.

They split up to cover more ground. They kept an eye on the temperature and an ear out for any sounds. So far Holly wasn’t having any luck. The upstairs wasn’t very big, smaller than the downstairs at least. The next couple of minutes passed in a very slow blur Holly barely remembered the exact details of.

Eventually they all ended up in the last bedroom. It was the most inhabited one, large clunky furniture loomed over them. The air in the room was almost so cold Holly thought if it got any chillier she would be able to see her breath.

There was a sense of early triumph for Holly, the source must be in here. Then there was the sound of wood groaning and Holly’s heart stopped and she spun around. The large wooden bookcase had tipped over and was falling towards Lucy and Lockwood. They were unaware of their immediate issue, both had looked confused for a moment. But George at her side had noticed.

“Lockwood!” “Lucy!” George and Holly cried at the same time and Lockwood reacted before even realizing what was happening. He’d tackled Lucy and they both fell out of the way as the heavy bookcase slammed onto the ground, billowing dust that made Holly‘s nose tickle.

She and George were running over and Holly let go of the breath she was holding when she saw they both looked dazed but unscathed. Holly helped Lucy to her feet while George helped Lockwood.

“Alright Luce?” Lockwood asked. He noticed how she was holding her arm carefully.

She stretched it out with a small hiss. “Yeah, just knocked it on the floor.”

Lockwood nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “What’s that?” Holly glanced over to where he was looking. It was behind where the bookcase had been. A piece of the wall was coming apart but as she got closer she could see it was part of a safe, slightly ajar.

“Careful,” Lockwood warned as Lucy and George also came closer. “I doubt this poltergeist has anything left in it after knocking down this. But better safe than sorry.”

Holly used the butt of her unused torch to push open the door. Holly nearly gagged and she knew the others felt the same way. Inside sat a small jar with a finger inside a grayish colored mixture. A pinky finger to be exact. It was covered in cobwebs and the spiders scattered as they swiped through them to get to it. Holly untangled her silver netting and wrapped up the tooth.

The effect was immediate. The air became less oppressive and a weight had been lifted. From there they’d packed up, finished off their tea and had gone home. Later it was found out the original owner’s body was missing a pinky finger, as it had been lost in an unfortunate accident some thirty years before his death in an accident.

Holly sat up in her bed and pushed off the thin sheets and stood stiffly. She felt frozen. In the kitchen she could smell food cooking. It somehow smelled delicious and turned her stomach at the same time. She needed some fresh air. She left her things on the couch and made her way to the front door. She didn’t plan on leaving, at least not before breakfast- or lunch.

Holly opened the door and stepped outside letting the heavy iron clang as it shut. She inhaled as the frigid London hair hit her face, the cold burned her lungs and seemed to amplify the chill in her chest. It helped her calm down and get her breathing back under control. She sat down on the porch, the stone was warm from the early morning sun. She leaned against the iron bars and breathed. Her team was safe and alive.

Holly didn’t realize how long she’d been there before the door fell open behind her. To avoid falling she jerked to sit up straight and turned slightly to see Lockwood looking down at her partly in concern. He had his shoes on and Holly’s bag she’d dropped onto the couch in his hand. He looked like he was about to head somewhere.

“Oops, sorry Holly,” Lockwood had already moved around to her side and let the door shut before she had even fully registered what was happening. He sat down besides her.

“It’s alright,” Holly assured and sooted over to give him more room.

“I’d thought you had left,” Lockwood admitted. “I asked Lucy and she said you’d gone outside and had left your stuff on the couch.”

Holly shook her head and took the bag gratefully. She didn’t usually leave until they ate breakfast together. And if Holly was being honest, she didn’t want to leave yet. The nightmares of Lucy and Lockwood having the life crushed out of them by various large pieces of furniture haunted her. “I just needed some air.”

“You alright?”

“I didn’t get hurt,” Holly assured Lockwood, thinking that was what her friend was concerned about.

“I don’t mean that. You seemed rather pale as we were leaving and you look like you didn’t get any sleep.”

“I’m fine Lockwood. Just a little shaken, I suppose.”

“That was the closest call we’ve had in a while,” Lockwood said quietly. He didn’t like cases like this either. He didn’t enjoy his team being in danger or injured. But, Holly things, they chose the wrong profession if they wanted safety. Death was part of the deal they took to help others.

“I wish I could’ve stopped it,” she admitted. She knew deep down there wasn’t really anything she could’ve done. Nothing any of them could have done and that scared her more than she’d like to admit.

“It’s not like you can stab a wooden bookcase with a rapier, Holly. Both you and George did everything you could in that situation and we all made it out in one piece. To top it all off, we even managed to finish our case”

Holly felt a little bit lighter. Like the weight of guilt, almost’s, and what-ifs had been lifted- if only temporarily. She knew it would never really be gone. If so, Holly would never keep improving and trying to keep her and her friends safe. And she knew Lockwood would be there for her. Holly nodded. “Thank you, Lockwood.”

Lockwood gave her one of his half grins, just a bit more tired thank his usual ones. “Glad to help. I take it you’re feeling better then?"

“Yeah. It… It feels good to have someone to talk to. I’ll be alright, Lockwood."

“Anytime, Holly,” Lockwood said kindly and gave her a warm smile that seemed to banish the leftover chill that had settled in her bones.

“Let’s go back inside,” Holly said, picking herself up and dusting off her blouse. “I imagine the others are wondering where we are.”

“Good idea. I don’t want to have to fight George over the last sausage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn't great. I'm in the middle of moving and being very stressed out. The point being, my books are in storage and all I brought with me was Sherlock Holmes. I'll have them soon though if things go well and be able to edit this before it's over.
> 
> Ta~


	5. Flo Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is n o t edited and I'm sorry this is mediocre at best.
> 
> Sorry this is late in the day. I'm moving again (for the 3rd time in less than a year). So next week's chapter (the last one aaaa!!) might be a bit late cuz I didn't have it finished yet because I had to rewrite Holly's chapter like four different times and all of them were long. I do not write well under stress and so far, this year has not been very kind to me qnq

Flo got lonely. So she talked. She talked to the sources. Even though they couldn't talk back and she wouldn't hear them if she did. But it was the closest thing to company she had, and that was a sad fact Flo chose to ignore. Most people either ignored or avoided her, going as far as to cross the street to get on the other side. It may have been the hostile way she presented herself, or maybe she just smelled.

The only people who treated her like she was just normal was George, Lockwood and his crew. When they needed information or sources (not the spirit portal kind) they came to Flo, bringing with them licorice, food, and company.

Flo knew she had a habit of acting annoyed, but deep down she wasn't. Not really. She'd do anything to help keep those idiots alive (not just because they fed her, though that may have played a part in the beginning). She even considered Lucy to be under her protection. But flo had never really realized just how truly isolating her job actually was until she got a few friends. When she first started this... profession, she’d needed isolation to grieve. While Flo still enjoyed the quiet except the sounds of the rivers she found herself wondering what her friends were up to.

The mysteries were over now, the ghosts would disappear for the most part, in a decade or so, hopefully. Without the steady income of ghosts, that meant Flo’s job wouldn’t last long. And she feared so would her encounters with Lockwood and his gang. Eventually they would taper off into nothing and Flo would be alone.

The Problem hadn’t left her poor, quite the opposite actually, she had made quite a lot selling the sources she found. Despite her appearance she had enough to live comfortably for a long while without even lifting a finger. Crime sure did pay!

Flo snorted at her own joke. She was nearly ready to finish up for the day, head back to her shack and spend the rest of the day, or until dark, cataloging her findings. She heard a twig snap and she had whipped around, poised to attack, to face a sheepish looking Lockwood. He was making his way down the embankment for some odd reason.

“Lockwood?”

“Er, yes. Apologies. I was walking through and I saw you, wanted to know how you were doing. I haven’t talked with you in, uh- a while.” That was a lie if Flo had ever heard one.

It wasn’t like she would ever choose a spot where someone could just happen upon her somewhat illicit deeds. Lockwood had purposely searched her out. Her face must have shown that because he gave her an innocent smile and kept making her way down.

“Don’t die,” she said, glancing at the muddy riverbank. And no, it wasn’t out of concern. She just didn’t want to deal with a dead body.

“Not to worry,” Lockwood said, as he stumbled over a tree root. But, against all odds, he managed to get down and onto the slippier, but flat, mud.

“Next time you search me out,” she warned, “at least wear some actual mud boots.”

Lockwood raised his hands slightly in surrender. “I just thought you might be lonely. We’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to pop on over.” He pulls a baggy of licorice out of his coat pocket. “I bought a peace offering. And company?”

She snorted at his accusation of her being lonely but took the licorice. He seemed to take that as the go-ahead. And he started talking, telling Flo about the crazy things that had happened in the couple of months since they’d last worked together or even spoke. Their popularity had them working nearly nonstop and they’d had to deny so many interviews Lockwood had lost count.

Flo listened as Lockwood told her about his latest case. Her shoulders seemed to relax as she sat down beside him on a dry log- or at least the driest place you were likely to find around here. It  _ was _ good to talk, but it felt even better to just listen to someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know times are hard right now so I hope you are all doing well. I'm always here to listen if anyone needs to talk. Much love to all you guys.


End file.
